Author: Chris Boggs
Cancer sucks, in case no one has ever told you.
My dad died from the ravages of cancer a few weeks ago. He fought a 19-month battle but lost; and there was little doubt from the beginning he would lose. But the person who was my dad never let the fight affect his attitude or his love of others.
Many insurance industry “giants" have been lost to cancer in the last few years, including Don Malecki, John Eubank, and Jim Harrison. But the greatest, in my mind, was my dad – Ronald E. Boggs.
I doubt you ever heard of him – that's OK, I can assure you that did not bother him. In fact, he preferred it that way. He was always more of a “background" person. He was there for support and encouragement. I've never known anyone like my dad, he wanted what was best for everyone – and would do anything for you. He was happy for everyone else and smiled right along with you.
My dad worked in insurance, first with the North Carolina Fire Insurance Rating Bureau which “became" Insurance Services Office (ISO) in the mid-1970s. During the summers when I was a teenager I would ride with my dad as he inspected buildings. So, I grew up rating buildings and performing loss control activities with my dad. We had a great time together, who knew this would be just the beginning of my insurance career.
Just prior to my September 1990 graduation from college, my dad's manager, who had known me literally my entire life, asked if I would interview with ISO. Since I needed a job, I agreed.
Because my dad was so well thought of at ISO I guess they figured I might be at least half as good and worth taking the chance. I began my insurance career with ISO on September 4, 1990. Who knew then that I would one day have the opportunity to write about and teach insurance nationally. All because of my dad.
As I said, you've probably never heard of my dad – but you would have liked him if you knew him. And although he wasn't well known in the industry, he was one of the best the insurance industry ever had.
Following is the homage to him I gave at his funeral. I'm going to warn you now, this is not your typical sad funeral goodbye. In fact, I worried a bit about giving it, but my wife said it was fitting. This is actually what I said. And trust me, this is how my dad would have wanted to be remembered. Heck, he didn't even want us to have a funeral because he didn't want to disturb people's weekend – and although I do kid quite a bit in my writing, about this I'm not kidding.
One Son's Memories of His Dad
All solemnity, somberness, and sadness ends now. We are here to talk about the real Ron Boggs. The one only a few of us actually knew. Along the way I have a couple surprises for you as well. This is going to be unlike any homage you've ever heard.
Now, my plan is to talk with you for about three minutes; but if you have ever taken a class from me or heard me speak, you know that I'm lying through my teeth. I can't introduce myself in under 15 minutes. So, we better get to it.
Many of you know my dad was a giver. And he gave of himself to everyone.
As a kid I played several sports and my dad coached two of them, soccer and baseball. He was an excellent baseball coach – because he was an excellent player. We had incredible baseball teams.
The proof that he was a giver and wanted to be there for me and others was his volunteering to coach my soccer team – for three seasons. My dad had never even SEEN a soccer match before I signed up. But despite his total lack of knowledge of and experience in the game, he desired to help every kid grow and succeed. And even though he had no experience with soccer, the result of his dedication to and love for every player was a very SORRY soccer team. The extent of his coaching consisted of his yelling – over and over and over – “Don't bunch." But --- we didn't listen.
No amount of desire to help us grow and succeed could overcome his lack of soccer knowledge. If we scored, no one was as surprised as we were. If we won, we all looked for the other three horsemen of the apocalypse. Soccer just wasn't his sport.
But neither his prowess as a baseball coach nor his, oh, let's say, pitiable achievements as a soccer coach mattered to him. What mattered to him was his players. Although every player on the team, and their parents, knew the team's record, it wasn't about that for my dad. My dad wanted you to be better at the end of the season than at the beginning – a better athlete, yeah, that was fine, but what was more important to him was, were you a better person.
To be honest, though, I'm not here to talk about my dad's accomplishments on the baseball diamond or his, um, lack of accomplishments on the soccer pitch. I'm here to tell you a few family secrets – the reality of my father – Ron Boggs.
For many years my wife, Sue, and I have tried to explain to our daughters, Taylor and Emma, that there are certain “things" that happen within the home that you don't tell anyone --- ever. You know, family secrets. I think they are beginning to understand what we mean.
Well, I'm about to disregard everything we have taught our daughters. Hey girls, do as I say, not as I'm getting ready to do.
I have in my memory 76 cases of malfeasance; but I'm only going to talk about three. In case you missed it, that's an Andy Griffith reference – my dad's favorite TV show; but I digress.
The first family secret I want to mention has nothing to do with my dad, directly; this one has more to do with my mom.
Were you aware that my mom stayed mad at me all through high school? All because I refused, refused to ever prepare for a speech or presentation. I wouldn't write it, I wouldn't practice it, nothing. I basically made it up standing there. This made my mom so mad (as it did my wife when we were in college).
Who would have ever guessed that my career would revolve around speaking to large groups of people all around the country – and even overseas. So, guess what, I now take a great amount of time to write and prepare my talks in advance.
So, how does this indirectly involve my dad. He used to try to calm my mom by saying, “Don't worry, he'll pay for this someday." Man was he right. And my mom just sits and laughs.
The second family secret I'm sure my dad would be glad is finally getting out in the open involves his toes. He had very tender toes – I mean ridiculously sensitive toes.
Let me break it down for you.
When I was about 10 or 11, we had a chair in the living room that rocked – even though it wasn't a “rocking chair," per se. Well, my dad was standing behind me – barefooted, toes exposed – and I rocked back onto those hypersensitive toes. He screamed and began jumping around in agony. Yes, think about this, this same man who, because of cancer, had half of his face removed and two large grafts taken from both legs - but NEVER had any pain or ever needed any pain meds, this same man was screaming in pain. You would have thought I chopped off his toes.
Now, while the sensitivity of his toes may not be a major family secret, what came next is – or was until now. Because he was in so much pain and because the pain made him so mad at me – he hit me. Yes, he hit me – with a loaf of bread. To this day I can't look at a loaf of Sunbeam bread without flinching.
The last family secret I want to mention demonstrates my dad's truly mean side. Oh yeah, he had a mean streak in him none but those closest to him knew anything about. But I know I will feel better getting this out in the open.
Again, I was about 12. We had a dog, Chuck was his name. On a side note, Chuck was stupid, but he was loveable. Anyway, I was watching TV and my dad called me and told me to come feed the dog – which was unusual because he generally did that. Well, that was just the set up for his cruelty.
So, like the well-behaved son I was, I walked into the kitchen to prepare Chuck's dinner. As I did – BAM! My dad, the man I loved, the man I trusted, hit me in the face with a whipped cream pie – which, by the way, happened to me again about 28 years later, but that's a different story for a different day.
Oh, he thought this was so funny. He laughed like you would not believe.
As I cleaned the whipped cream out of my eyes, my nose and even my ears, I was thinking to myself – laugh it up big boy, I will get you back. But I never let on I was thinking this. And I never mentioned it again!
Which brings me to a last big family reveal that is my secret, not my dad's. The day before I got married to the most wonderful lady in the world (I did marry above myself), about 10 years after the “pie incident," as it became known, I called my dad into the kitchen of his house (I had moved to Raleigh by that point). As he walked through the door --- do you have any idea how hard it is to hit your hero in the face with a whipped cream pie? Well, I got over that hang-up and exacted my revenge.
Thank you so much for indulging me. You have no idea how cathartic this has been. Being able to release all this pent-up family humor is an amazing feeling. If you want to hear more of the Ron Boggs reality, I'll be eating some more of this amazing food because I am, after all, a man after my dad's own heart – or stomach.
Last Updated: November 26, 2018